


The Space Between

by In_Dee



Series: Taggert 'Verse [4]
Category: NCIS: Los Angeles
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:53:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26831710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/In_Dee/pseuds/In_Dee
Summary: Introspections, conversations and days not going as planned.
Relationships: G Callen/Original Male Character(s)
Series: Taggert 'Verse [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1808557
Comments: 4
Kudos: 26





	The Space Between

**Author's Note:**

> Another one from the Taggert 'verse.  
> Enjoy and as always: stay safe, everyone!

They hadn’t really figured out what they had been doing before Luc left for his next deployment. A deployment that had come nearly two months early due to a crisis that was heating up in the Middle East. Of the not quite five months they’d seen each other, Luc had been away on trainings and work-ups more often than he had been in Coronado or L.A.

They had met casually in the beginning and more frequently when things progressed, but neither had dared putting a name to what they were doing.

They were enjoying time together, the sex was great and that was all there was to it.

Until it wasn’t anymore.

Luc’s early deployment had thrown him and Callen had realized with a start - about two weeks after Luc had left - that whatever they’d shaped had become more than just a physically satisfying arrangement to him.

They hadn’t made any promises before Luc had left, but Callen found himself thinking about the other man more often than not. He’d used his security clearance to check up on him, carefully maneuvering to stay under Hetty’s radar, rather certain she wouldn’t approve of the misuse of his time and taxpayer dollars.

The phone call four weeks into Luc’s deployment had been as awkward as it had been desired, both of them strangely giddy with nerves.

Phone calls merged into rather frequent text messages which in turn merged into semi-frequent video call sessions. He couldn’t speak for the other man, but Callen could acknowledge - at least to himself - that he was interested in more than a physical relationship.

In a way it was fascinating to him, because Callen knew very well that his usual MO when it came to personal relationships was to get the hell out of dodge. With Luc, he only wanted to circle closer.

Maybe it was the way neither of them pushed for more, for the moment content to let things develop on their own - as much as possible considering they were continents apart and Luc was in the middle of a warzone.

Callen found himself considering to talk to his best friend about this every now and then, but on the other hand, there wasn’t really anything to tell as of yet.

Contrary to Callen, Luc was a lot more open about their whatever-it-was to his team mates and Callen had met pretty much all of them in one or another video chat - some faces were distantly familiar from the rescue mission a year ago, but aside of Luc, Callen hadn’t had any real contact with anyone else from the SEAL team back then.

He wasn’t always certain if Luc’s honesty about them was really just that easy for him, or if it was simply much harder to keep everyone’s noses out of his business in the close quarters they bunked in. Sometimes he considered asking, but then again, he thought maybe he should let sleeping dogs lie.

The fact that they were talking with his team’s knowledge let him know that Luc trusted them though. The military still wasn’t always a friendly place for people with homosexual interests. ‘ _Don’t ask, don’t tell_ ’ was still a very real thing. Especially in a SEAL team, where lots of alpha male posturing went on, Callen wouldn’t have been surprised if Luc kept everything under wraps.

It was a lot easier like this though, as they were rarely completely alone during their conversations. They went days, sometimes weeks without contact since neither of them could claim any sort of routine daily schedule, so they missed each other’s calls or online times frequently.

Still, whenever they did manage to talk either via phone or by video call, a feeling of contentment stole through Callen.

Despite what Luc regularly saw in a warzone, he had a quirky kind of humor that Callen had first noted distantly during the rescue mission. The impression of Luc’s humor only strengthened the longer he knew the other man. He was at heart a rascal, often in the thick of things when it came to pranks within his team and Callen had been in tears over one or another of the man’s stories of the pranks he’d pulled - some he’d gotten away with and some he’d gotten into trouble for.

Luc didn’t only dish out though. He was also the butt of many of his team mates’ jokes and he took it in stride.

There was a lot of teasing within the team as far as he could tell, but it was good natured and never mean spirited. The team around Luc was a close knit group. He could see it in their interactions and he had also read the subtext in some of the mission protocols he’d been able to get his hands on.

Callen half startled out of his musing when someone sank down beside him, Michelle nudging a beer towards him. He gave her a smile and reached for the bottle, taking a drag.

“You’ve been preoccupied lately,” she prompted softly.

Callen smirked and then leaned back into the support beam at his back, stretching his left leg out while drawing his right closer to his body. “You can tell Sam to stop worrying.”

Michelle laughed before taking a mouthful of beer herself. “You should know better than to think I follow my husband’s direction. If he’s worried, he can bring it up himself.” She nudged his leg in fake dismay at his playful implication.

Callen merely grunted before letting the silence fall for several long seconds while pondering what to do. “Aiden coming home for the holidays?” he asked, deciding to prompt her on something else to distract her. She was a CIA operative and a very clever woman so he might not get away with it, but he would try to deflect and dodge the questions. He wasn’t ready to share something that he couldn’t define yet.

Michelle’s gaze lingered on him and he could tell she was debating with herself on whether or not to let him get away with the deflection. Moments later, she gave a slow nod, holding his eyes and letting him know she was onto him but abiding by his wishes, before changing the topic as he had prompted.

Xxxxxxx

He parked the car in the driveway, killing the engine. Closing his eyes, he could finally let go of the tight control, of pretending “I’m fine”.

He wasn’t.

Leaning forward, Callen rested his head against the steering wheel, moaning softly when his ribs protested.

Pain pulsed through him; ribs, elbow and knee where he had been smashed against the seat belt slash steering wheel, the window and the dashboard respectively. His spine felt as if several vertebra hadn’t quite figured out where their original places had been _before_ he’d rolled his car several times in a pursuit gone bad.

For the thousandth time today, he wondered if he was just getting too old for this shit.

He’d rolled cars before.

He couldn’t remember feeling as bad as he did now.

Working up the courage to move, to get out of the car, he drew a slow and careful breath. He’d been checked up in hospital and aside of massive bruising, a cracked rib or two and a tiny bit of a concussion, he got away with nothing more than a few scratches. He had a healthy dose of painkillers in the bag on the passenger seat… painkillers he quietly longed for but wouldn’t take.

The case might be done, these perpetrators behind bars, but his paranoia - as well as old enemies - never left.

If he took the painkillers he got from the hospital, he might not be aware enough to react to a threat creeping up on him. So: no painkillers for him.

Moving slowly, Callen made it out of the car, leaning heavily against it before pushing himself forward and hobbling towards his house.

He was glad to be here, and glad he was alone so he could let go of the pretense. Sam had offered to come and stay with him, but Callen had refused. He just wanted to curl up and lick his wounds in private.

Plus, Sam’s daughter had a recital tonight. His partner had missed many of those already due to their job. Callen wouldn’t be responsible for him missing another.

Putting one stumbling foot in front of the other, he made it to the front door. Leaning against it, he fumbled for the key. His fingertips brushed against the metal when the air around him shifted and the fine hairs at the back of his neck stood on end.

Changing trajectory, his hand reached for his gun instead and he bit back the hiss when his ribs complained at the twist. Even before he had his weapon drawn, he whirled around, coming face to face with… “Luc?” he asked somewhat breathlessly when the other man stepped out of the shadows.

The SEAL merely arched an eyebrow at the weapon and Callen lowered it to his side, deciding to forgo trying to tuck it back where it belonged. Drawing it had hurt and he was sure the same would hold true for the reverse action.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, realizing he probably sounded rather unimpressed… which was somewhat true. He hadn’t expected Luc. And he wasn’t in the mood for company.

The other man’s planned return date had come and gone three weeks ago, postponed infinitely. They hadn’t talked since then, their schedules messed up enough to miss each other every time they tried reaching out. They had exchanged some texts, but Luc hadn’t hinted at returning stateside… and Callen had privately suspected that was probably either because he didn’t know a new return date or because he didn’t want to jinx it a second time.

Shaking his head, Callen wondered if he’d drifted. Possibly the concussion. He closed his eyes and tried reaching for the control he had let go of in the car, to wrap the mantle of ‘nothing to see’ back around himself. He found it eluding his reach.

Callen winced when Luc’s hand made contact with his arm. “Not that one,” he murmured, unable to swallow the words before they escaped, unable to hide.

Instantly, Luc let go of him. “What did you do?” he asked quietly.

“Rolled the car,” Callen muttered, leaning against the wall and blinking his eyes open once more, still trying to find the cloak of control. He glanced at the other man, found Luc’s gaze away from him and on the car in the driveway, skeptically checking for damage from a distance. Callen smirked. “Not that one,” he repeated, though the context of the sentence wasn’t the same. “That one’s a goner.”

Luc turned his head back and their gazes met. “Not quite how I expected tonight to go,” the SEAL said, his lips lifting in a half smile.

“Me neither,” Callen said with a slow shrug, trying to hide the wince.

Luc shook his head. “Alright, let’s get you inside before you fall down.”

“Won’t,” Callen gave back evenly. And he wouldn’t. As long as he decided to remain upright, he would - possibly with some added help of something to lean against, but that were minor technical details in his book.

“Keys?” Luc asked.

He briefly wondered what to do… shift the gun to his left hand so he could reach for the keys? Hand the weapon to Luc so he could reach for the keys? Have Luc go for the keys?

Before he could come to some sort of conclusion, Luc took matters into his own hands and pattered his pockets, feeling for the keys before slipping his hand into the right pocket and coming up with the keys.

A small part of him zeroed in on Luc’s hand rather close to places possibly interested in further physical contact, the rest of him was simply too exhausted and in too much discomfort to care.

“Just how much pain are you in, G?” Luc asked while he unlocked the door.

“A three I think,” Callen gave back, resorting back to the universal pain scale of one to ten all medics liked to use. He stepped into the house when Luc opened the door, keeping his steps slow and deliberate.

“Would that be the same three you were in when we got you out of those caves last year?” the other man asked.

“No,” Callen replied slowly, “that one was worse.”

“Good to know,” came the muttered words behind him. He could feel Luc’s gaze as he followed him inside. “So… on a normal person’s rating scale?”

Callen hesitated for a moment before giving in. “Maybe a five or six,” he gave back quietly. Compared to the maybe, possibly 8 or 8.5 from their first meeting, he was doing mostly ok. Mostly. He slowly moved through the living room, heading straight for the bedroom. He needed to get off his feet, stretch out and let his body rest as much as the pain would allow.

Luc matched his pace, leaving him to move under his own volition, but Callen was certain he was ready to intervene if he stumbled. He made sure he didn’t… mostly out of self preservation because he knew stumbling would result in a fierce spike of pain.

Entering the bedroom, Callen slowly levered himself down on the bed, once more glad for its presence. He really was getting too old for sleeping on the floor. Especially after days like this one. The bed was one of the few creature comforts he allowed himself to have. And right now he was profoundly glad for it.

“Have you taken any painkillers?” Luc asked, kneeling in front of him and reaching for the gun that was still in Callen’s right hand.

There was a soft but insistent tug before Callen let go of it.

Luc rolled his eyes good naturedly and made a show of putting the gun under the pillow where it would be within easy reach for Callen later on.

Callen approved the placement and returned his eyes to the other man, finding him unlacing his shoes. He wanted to protest the treatment, but he had to admit that he wasn’t quite certain if he could get his shoes off considering how stiff he felt. Bending down might not go over well. So instead of protesting, he watched Luc, his eyes lingering on his features, taking in the curl of his hair, the focus in his eyes.

“G?” Luc prodded again, without looking up, “painkillers?”

Callen drew a slow breath, “no,” he muttered.

Luc glanced up now, watching him, a mixture somewhere between confused and sad. “I’m sure you’ve got painkillers lying around here that you don’t react badly to,” he suggested slowly. Luc knew that he didn’t get on well with most painkillers. As the SEAL team’s medic, Luc had been briefed on Callen’s medical history before they had gotten him out of captivity and Luc had packed different medications for Callen than he would have normally had with him.

“Can’t,” Callen gave back quietly.

“Why not?”

“Need to remain alert. Can’t let my guard down. I sleep too deeply with painkillers,” he explained, distantly wondering why he was telling Luc those things. Then again, everyone said you should open up in a relationship… or whatever-the-hell-it-was-they-were in.

Luc straightened from his crouch so they were eye level. He reached out and rested a hand carefully and lightly against his neck and Callen couldn’t quite help the sigh that escaped upon the physical contact. In the privacy of his mind he could admit to having missed this. Contrary to him, Luc was far more open with his touches. He wasn’t clingy or reaching out all the time, but his touches were still frequent. They were also often subconscious, for some reason making them even more special.

“G,” he said softly and Callen drew his focus back on Luc, away from his internal musings. “Take the painkillers. You don’t need to remain vigilant.”

He wanted to protest, but Luc shushed him.

“You don’t,” he reinforced quietly, “I’m here.”

It was as if that explained everything, and actually, it kind of did. Callen hadn’t considered that possibility, his mind clouded by pain and the concussion that didn’t _quite_ let him think straight. Plus, he wasn’t used to lowering his guard. Even in Sam’s presence, he didn’t always manage, would become stroppy, especially if he was hurt. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Sam, but when he was hurt, he didn’t only feel _physically_ vulnerable.

He quietly debated with himself if he could lower his guard around Luc enough to take painkillers and if he could let go of the control that usually determined his every waking - and many sleeping - moment. The answer surprised him as much as it didn’t: yes, he could. He could allow himself to be vulnerable around this man.

“Passenger seat, plastic bag,” he directed softly.

There was a small smile on Luc’s lips before he stood. “Stay upright until I’m back so we don’t have to raise you up again to swallow the meds,” he directed and Callen just offered a grunt of agreement - one that hurt when it rumbled in his chest. Damn cracked ribs.

He started unbuttoning his shirt, wanting to be able to lie down as quickly as possible.

It took only a few minutes before Luc was back, one pill propped in a hand and a glass of water in the other. He handed them to Callen one after the other and took the empty glass out of his hands when he was done. “Ribs, left arm, right leg and a concussion,” he noted, “miss anything?” He reached out and carefully drew Callen’s open shirt over his shoulders and down his arms.

Callen refrained from shaking his head. “Nothing broken. Two cracked ribs. The rest is just bruised,” he told the other man.

Luc whistled softly when he saw the bruising on his torso. It would most certainly be even more spectacular in the morning. After helping Callen get out of the shirt, he stopped him from lying down. Instead, Luc reached for his pants, unceremoniously unbuckling the belt and opening his pants. “Right arm over my shoulder,” he directed and Callen obeyed, biting back the hiss when Luc stood him up a moment later and proceeded to undress him.

He liked the usual scenarios where they undressed each other better. Callen smiled slightly to himself and carefully sat back down with Luc’s help after his pants were lowered. Admittedly, he was glad for the help right now. You only ever understood how much you relied on core muscles if they didn’t work properly.

A soft groan escaped him when he shifted backwards and then lay down - again with Luc’s help. Bruised muscles and cracked ribs would make lying down and getting up a pain in the ass for the coming days. Also sitting, standing, moving and yeah, breathing would hurt. Inwardly, Callen rolled his eyes at himself. He really was getting too old for this shit if he got whiny over inconsequential stuff like this.

He listened to Luc moving around the house, smiled slightly when he understood that the other man was securing the house before returning to the bedroom. It was on the one hand strange and on the other comforting to realize that Luc knew Callen’s routine well enough to perform it without hesitation.

Callen blinked his eyes back open when the bed dipped. He smiled up at the other man who was watching him. Their eyes met and Callen carefully reached out with his right hand, his fingers curling in Luc’s shirt and giving it a small tug. Not resisting, Luc leaned down and Callen moved his hand to the back of Luc’s neck, drawing him closer. He resisted the desire to stretch up and meet him half-way, knowing it would hurt. Instead he waited for Luc to close the distance between them, their lips meeting in a gentle kiss, a slow slide of lips before they both eased out of the contact at the same time. Luc’s forehead came to rest against his and Callen smiled.

“Welcome back,” Callen murmured.

“Thanks.” A matching smile stole over Luc’s lips before he straightened away, only to shift and stretch his body out beside Callen’s. Where Callen was flat on his back though, Luc was on his side, facing him. “I thought tonight would go a bit differently though.” There was no affront in the words, more mirth and exasperation.

“If you’d told me you’d come by today, I wouldn’t have rolled the car,” Callen gave back with a small grin.

Luc laughed softly. “I’ll keep that in mind for the next time.”

There was a promise in those words and Callen felt something relax inside of him. They would have to define this thing between them, but he got the feeling they were both in for more. So there was only one thing he could do to answer the unspoken promise: by returning it, “you do that.”


End file.
